


Clamp

by silenthillfourtheroom (ccuddlefish)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccuddlefish/pseuds/silenthillfourtheroom
Summary: "I'd be hard pressed to think of a worse place to spend the rest of my life. If we get home, I'll never complain about Voyager's shitty bunks or Neelix's stew ever again." Harry said softly. Suddenly now it seemed so far away, the hum from the implant twisting his memories. Had he really lived for almost two years on that ship, rocketing through space on a trip without end? He tried to cling to the things he knew, his stiff bunk and B'elanna's impetuous orders and evenings spent with Tom in a smoky room, playing pool and laughing. He remembered double dates, where he and Tom would sit across from each other and smile and-This is my take on some "deleted scenes" in and around 3x03 "The Chute." I thought it would be interesting to explore their mental states and the aftermath of their imprisonment.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Clamp

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during and after s3e03 "The Chute" so i'd consider that required watching before you read further, or else you won't have any idea what's going on haha. It's one of my favourite episodes of Voyager anyway, so I'd highly recommend it. 
> 
> I've had this sitting in my notes for ages, not sure whether it was good enough to publish but... who cares. I've read a few good Tom/Harry fics on this site so it's my time to bring in my interpretation of their dynamic. I'm a big sucker for best friends to lovers and this ship is like my favourite example of it so.... hope i did them justice!
> 
> leave a comment if you liked it, it fuels me

"This one's mine. Nobody touches him." Tom Paris spoke loudly, a crooked smile spreading over his features. His cool, searching look flickered over the prisoners gathered around the glowing red lights of the chute, the bulbs casting them in crimson and making them look more sinister than any gaggle of half-starved criminals had any right to look. Their faces were smeared with dirt and grime and blood, the soft light of the implant pulsing insistently at their temples. Harry Kim bit his lip and brought his fingers to his own forehead, brushing away some of the blood already starting to peel off in flakes. There was a warm piece of metal in his skin. The impulse to tug it, to rip and shred and pull until the disgusting thing came away and took half his brain with it, came to Harry in a dark flash. For a second, the world around him narrowed, pushing away the hot, foul-smelling prison and the feeling of Tom's hand clutched in his hair and there was nothing but hot pain spiking its way through his cerebrum and the coppery smell of blood. It was horrifying and exhilarating, emotions twisted together so tightly he couldn't separate them anymore. 

This was going to be a problem. Understatement of the millenium, he knew, but Harry didn't like to acknowledge the negatives. Even when the Captain was looking him over with that steely gaze of hers, asking for second opinions that he couldn't give. He was always going to find a way. They hadn't come this far to be killed by drugged-out brutes on some barren prison moon, thousands of light-years from home. 

As always, Tom brought him back to reality in the only way he could. He tightened the fist in Harry's hair, yanking him until he stumbled back a few steps. Tom was pulling him away from the slowly advancing crowd of prisoners, growling some nonsense about Harry selling him out. Harry yelped and followed, grimacing at the flash of pain that ran across his scalp as Tom's hand came away with a few dark hairs tangled around his fingers. He saw Tom's expression change, just minutely, a flicker of fear buried under all the false bluster and overconfidence. Anyone else but Harry wouldn't have caught it, and he felt a surge of... what? Admiration? Happiness? Neither of those seemed to fit the bill, but all the pain clamouring for attention at the back of his skull made it hard to focus. Quietly, Tom dropped his hand from the back of Harry's head and gripped the collar of his shirt instead, still dragging him away. Harry did his best to look the part of the cowed hostage, cast his eyes down and whimpered and licked at the blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. Their gambit seemed to work long enough to pull Harry away from danger, and then Tom's hand was on his wrist and they were running, pushing through other inmates as they wove their way deeper into the facility. 

\--- 

"It's getting worse." Harry sighed, a hot rush of breath that tasted like acid, like the feeling of his stomach tearing itself apart in absense of food. He reached down and rested a hand on his own abdomen, the other hand releasing the pipe with its half-twisted wires and letting it fall to the ground not so carefully. Tom reached over and scooped it up, eyes resting on it frantically, trying to make sure that it hadn't been damaged. Harry felt a stab of remorse, but it was quickly followed by another wave of pain that started in his head and agitated his stomach as it swept down to his toes. He whimpered, digging his nails into the skin over his stomach, kneading the flesh like it might make the pain lessen. The light at his temple pulsed sluggishly, tauntingly, and there was that impulse again, to push his fingers into his brain tissue and shred until he was free and unthinking and dead. 

"What do you mean?" Tom said softly, tucking the pipe underneath the thin, scratchy blanket and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, pulling him away from the sickly light at the entrance of the tent and into the warm darkness. Harry breathed out slowly, trying to remember the Vulcan meditation techniques Tuvok insisted upon teaching his crewmen. If I ever get out of here, buddy, I promise i'll listen to all of your lectures. Even the boring ones. The measured breathing didn't work. He gripped the front of Tom's shirt where it lay still under his palm. Tom did nothing, just breathed in sharply and waited, watery blue eyes watching him intently. What Tom was waiting for, he wasn't sure. He looked strange like this, just sick and afraid enough to let all the layers of contrived easiness fall away, looking up at Harry like he was the only real thing in the universe. 

Maybe, right now, among all these alien strangers, drugged up on whatever these chips were pumping into their heads, it was true. 

"What the hell do you think I mean? God, Tom, I think this stupid chip is melting my brain-" Harry kneaded his knuckles into his eyes until he saw stars and imagined the way they would look, whipping past Voyager as it came to bring them home. Janeway must already have a plan. She'd never leave them behind- never. 

Never, he repeated to himself, trying to believe it. 

"Calm down, Harry." Tom's voice was quiet and level as he lay back and pulled Harry further from the annoying brightness of the lights that never dimmed, never turned off, only flickered and stuttered in time with the blinking bulbs embedded in their heads. 

"Don't tell me what to do!" Harry snapped automatically, Tom's words and his strangely calm demeanor buzzing against his skull. Where did he get off bossing Harry around, anyway? Harry grunted in annoyance and reached for the pipe, closing his fingers around the cold metal of their last hope. If he could just work on it a little longer, maybe something would click. 

"Lay off the pipe for a minute." Tom said back, evenly, like he was suddenly exhausted. Harry noticed a soft sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Please." He said when Harry didn't move, interpreting his silence and stillness as stubbornness. It wasn't anything like that, though. Captain Janeway would be the first to suggest a night's rest when it could be spared, in order to refresh the brain. He'd often woken to the computer's smooth voice with the solution to his latest dilemma swimming through his head. Tom was right, the pipe could wait. The problem wasn't the pipe, really. 

The problem was that the future currently breathing down Tom and Harry's necks was so terrifying that he didn't want to think about it for longer than a second. 

"Tom, if we don't work on this thing we'll never- We won't-" Harry's voice finally cracked as the magnitude of their situation set in. Nobody to trust but each other, a short and twisted lifetime of hunger and pain and the violent urges that crowded his brain and got harder to ignore with every passing second. 

"Shh. It's just for a minute." Tom said sadly, and Harry relented, letting Tom pull him down onto the cold stone floor. He cradled his head in the crook of Tom's shoulder and tried the breathing exercises again. Every time he breathed, he smelled the copper and sweat rising off his best friend. Something horrible in him liked the blood, liked the way Tom's skin was split open on the knuckles as he gently rubbed circles into Harry's back. He shuddered and tried to close his throat against the revulsion crawling its way up. It would only be bile, anyway. Tom didn't speak for the longest time, and Harry remained silent too, listening to the even rush of their breathing and the steady beat of Tom's heart. At least he was still here, Harry told himself. That was something. He nudged his nose up and rested it softly in the little dip between Tom's neck and shoulder. Harry expected Tom to react, move, anything-- but he remained still for a long time before he spoke. 

"What will happen if Captain Janeway doesn't come back for us?" Tom's voice was raspy, and Harry's heart twinged a little when he noticed the worsening signs of dehydration plaguing them both. 

"She will." Harry said stoutly, as certainly as he could. He felt the pull of fabric as Tom shook his head, pulled back slightly. He raised his hands and cupped Harry's jaw, staring like he could bore a hole through his skull. Harry felt strange under his gaze, but not because it was uncomfortable. Despite the implant stinging into him, he felt a moment of relaxed clarity as he looked up at Tom's severe expression. His eyes were a bit cloudier now, a feverish flush spreading over his cheeks. His blond hair hung limp and wet against his face, and his jaw was trembling slightly as he spoke. 

"But what if she doesn't? What if the prison is cloaked or our hosts blast her out of the sky-" Tom's voice was full of a pained resignation, the defeat of a man who had accepted the possibility of capture a long time ago. Well, maybe that was how the Maquis trained their men, to throw their lives away. Harry wasn't made that way. 

"Shut up, Tom." Harry furrowed his brow, tried to pull back, but Tom grimaced and dug his fingers into Harry's face, pressing at his pulse points until he gasped and stayed still. A twitch of remorse came over Tom's face, but he soldiered on, hands going soft again. 

"I'm serious, Harry. What if this is the rest of our life? If you don't even think about it... If the worst happens, and we're stuck here forever, it'll kill you." He finished grimly, his hands loosening and dropping limply to his chest. Though Harry was no longer pinned there, he didn't move away. 

"That a Maquis rule?" He raised an eyebrow, distaste surely showing in his voice. 

"We were trained to plan for long-term detention, but we thought it'd be the Cardassians." Tom sighed deeply, tucked his hands behind his head and leaned back. "Guess this place isn't really all that different. Cardies would be drooling over these implants." He laughed and flicked at the little light, but there was no humour in it. 

"I'd be hard pressed to think of a worse place to spend the rest of my life. If we get home, I'll never complain about Voyager's shitty bunks or Neelix's stew ever again." Harry said softly. Suddenly now it seemed so far away, the hum from the implant twisting his memories. Had he really lived for almost two years on that ship, rocketing through space on a trip without end? He tried to cling to the things he knew, his stiff bunk and B'elanna's impetuous orders and evenings spent with Tom in a smoky room, playing pool and laughing. He remembered double dates, where he and Tom would sit across from each other and smile and- 

"I mean, you must be chafing too, Tom. There's no girls anywhere to be seen." Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood. Tom had always liked talking about women, comparing stories and begrudgingly taking advice. This time, he grimaced, and he propped himself up on his elbows so he could fix Harry with another one of those strange looks. 

"You think that's the only thing I ever think about?" He raised an eyebrow, a tense smile finally coming to his lips. Maybe it was too painful, talking about all the women he might never see again. He was sure Tom's first pick for the rest of his life wasn't this cramped tent and this hard floor, nothing but him and Harry until they starved or killed each other. 

"No, I suppose not. Even you've gotta have hobbies." Harry conceded, fumbling to steer the conversation away from the maybe-lost romances. The Delaney sisters were feeling farther away as he dwelled on their dates, more like a flimsy excuse. 

"Tell me what you're going to miss." He looked at Tom, a small smile coming to his lips. Tom smiled back and lay down, spinning a tale about brave Maquis raiders and a Cardassian convoy, the bartender in his Holodeck program, all the replicator rations he'd spend on food if they went home. Harry lay his head on his chest and let the hum of Tom's voice lull him to sleep. 

\--- 

He woke, having no idea what time it was or even where he was. His hands scraped over the concrete and a sob of panic caught in his throat. Another second passed before he remembered. The realization that he was trapped didn't make him feel much better, but there was some relief in knowing, at least. He rubbed the crusts out of his eyes. Through the thin, filthy fabric of the tent he could hear Tom's voice. He couldn't help but perk up, and his heart settled back into a much more reasonable pace. Who would have thought he would be happy that Tom was trapped here with him? Misery loves company. 

"Thought you'd have killed him by now." An unfamiliar alien voice reached Harry's ear, twisted by the universal translator into a tinny whine. He heard Tom laugh, loud and bright. 

"I've knocked plenty of sense into him already. Isn't it better that he lives with it?" He replied, and Harry knew which expression would be on his face, that shit-eating grin he wore when he'd won a pool game. 

"You suffer a traitor to live... and you live with him." The alien didn't seem to understand, his voice still registering confusion even underneath the translator's distortion. 

"So unimaginative... Killing's not the only thing people are good for. I figure I've got a long, lonely stay ahead of me." Tom paused, waiting for the innuendo to sink in. It took a minute to get through the universal translator and the alien's thick skull. Harry rolled his eyes. "I can kill him when I'm done with him." Tom finished, his voice spiked with cruelty. It sometimes scared Harry, how Tom could just slip into it like that, playing both sides expertly. Harry was reminded of the time Tom had socked Chakotay on the bridge, the wide grin spreading over his features like it came naturally. Just like now, it seemed like he was enjoying the role-play a little too much. 

"Aliens." The man grunted, exasperated, and Harry listened to the sound of his footsteps as they crunched over the gravelly ground. Tom waited a few moments in silence and then Harry heard a rustle as he pulled aside the opening to the tent. Harry quickly dropped his head into the crook of his arm and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want Tom to know he'd overheard. Even though he knew Tom meant none of it, just saying whatever their fellow inmates would interpret as strength, Harry's brain still clung to a specific sentence, turning it over and over until his thoughts spun. 

I figure I've got a long, lonely stay ahead of me. 

If they stayed like this for five years or ten, would something change? 

"Oh, Harry! Rise and shine." Tom poked Harry's shoulder, his voice mocking and singsong. Harry cracked an eye and looked up at Tom, ever bright even when he was sick and dehydrated. "Don't you want to get out of here? I figure you're sick of me already." 

"Been sick of you since we got stranded in the Delta quadrant, Tom." Harry said easily, and Tom laughed back, reaching down and hauling him up into a sitting position. 

"That's the spirit. Up and at 'em." 

\--- 

"We need more wires." Harry snapped, raking through the rubble with his fingers and coughing in surprise when it raised a cloud of dust. Tom hung back a few feet, kicking the bits of concrete around with his foot. Harry turned to him with a glare, feeling his head pound. He looked up at Tom and catalogued all his weak spots, all the places he could press to make him hurt, make him cry. His wrist seemed so thin as he crouched and pulled a piece of fabric aside, and Harry allowed himself to think about the sound it'd make if he wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed until it snapped. It was getting harder and harder to think through the veritable red cloud across his vision. They were friends... right? They were crewmen. It was getting more difficult to remember Voyager, and Harry was way beyond Vulcan meditation techniques at this point. 

"I know that." Tom said thickly, the fever burning behind his eyes making his tongue thick and heavy. Did he think Harry was stupid? He saw the way Tom was lazily combing through the debris, like he didn't care about getting out of here at all. In fact, the duplicitous bastard probably liked it here. Lots of opportunities to play his sick little games. 

"So why haven't you found any?" Harry felt his voice drop to a growl as he stood quickly and closed the distance between him and Tom, who looked up at him in annoyance. 

"You're empty-handed too, idiot. C'mon, let's try the other end of the complex." He shrugged and stood, nonchalantly dusting his hands off and turning away from Harry. That was the last straw. How dare he? How dare he walk away from Harry, knowing he was sick, knowing the other beasts in here would tear him limb from limb if Harry didn't protect him. The red cloud was almost blocking his vision, the implant surging with the horrible pulse of his heart, as he grabbed Tom by the shoulder and dug his fingers deep into the flesh. Tom didn't scream, just gasped as Harry spun him back around. A surge of strength carried them both to the nearest crumbling brick wall, a fine layer of dust shaking loose with the force of Harry's shove. Tom's shoulders hit the wall, and Harry noticed how his bottom lip was trembling. 

"Harry, wait-" Tom was looking at him, eyes wide, hands going up to shield his face. 

"I'm sick of you bossing me around. I know the things you all say about me, just some stupid Ensign, always getting talked down to-" Harry dug his fingers deeper into Tom's shoulders, grinned when Tom whimpered. Not so tough now, huh? 

"That's not-" He started to speak, but Harry was sick of it. 

"Shut up, Lieutenant. There's no Starfleet or Maquis here. I'm in charge, and I'm the only thing keeping you from certain death, so you'd better start sounding more grateful." Harry spat, watching as his vision narrowed and twisted, until Tom's warped face was the only thing he could see. He felt a spike of vindication when a tear slipped out of Tom's eye. Finally he was listening. 

"You're in charge, Harry, just-" Tom started, attempting to peel Harry's fingers from his shoulders. Harry released his grip, and Tom sighed in relief, only to choke when Harry brought his hand up to Tom's throat and squeezed until his knuckles went white. Tom went right back to scraping ineffectually at Harry's hands. When that didn't work, he curled his fingers into fists and brought them weakly down on Harry's chest, barely even hard enough to hurt. The fever had him worse than Harry had thought. He'd expected it to feel better, honestly. The implant had him believing that the only way to get rid of the horrible buzz was to give in, just hurt and hurt until the hurt inside his skull subsided. But as he watched the colour drain from Tom's face, he didn't feel better at all. He looked up into Tom's blue eyes, going glassy with fever and lack of oxygen, and felt a stab of pain, not at his temple where the implant sat, but in his chest. Harry used to sit across a cramped metal table and look into this face. He looked so different now, contorted with fear and mouth flapping open, trying desperately to breathe. 

Oh, God. 

Harry released his hands like he'd been shocked, a wave of remorse rushing over him and banishing the red fog momentarily. Tom's legs gave out and he crashed to the floor, coughing and gasping, scrabbling at his throat like he might pull his airway back open from the outside. Harry dropped with him, feeling a spike of pain as his knees scraped over the gravel. He barely noticed the blood seeping through the fabric of his pants, just another to add to the list of injuries to ask the Doctor about. 

"Tom, I'm so sorry-" His hands went back to Tom's throat, and Tom finally responded with a strained yelp of fear, flinching away. But Harry just did his best to find his field medic training around the implant's buzzing and started gently rubbing circles over the bruised skin, trying to coax the airway back open. Tom stilled, a few more tears slipping out of his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. Harry felt another wave of guilt, almost completely overwhelming. He felt a rush of apologies start to spill from his lips, whispered like the sound of his own voice was too much. 

"I-I really thought you were going to kill me." Tom rasped after a moment, and the pain in his voice made Harry feel sick to his stomach. He'd done this. He hadn't been able to control himself, and he'd nearly killed his best friend. Harry felt the warm prickle of tears at the corner of his eyes. His cheeks were quickly streaked with wetness as the tears fell, dripping off his face and making wet drops on Tom's shirt. His voice was breaking, but he continued with the whispered apologies as he became convinced Tom could finally breathe. He moved his hands away from his throat and cradled his head instead, pulling it to his own chest. Tom didn't resist, perhaps too exhausted. That made more tears spill onto Harry's cheeks, and they dripped down onto the hollow beneath Tom's eye. 

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you..." Harry's breath skipped over itself, and his hands shook as he brushed Tom's greasy hair away from his face. They were so close now, Tom curled limply against Harry's chest as it shook with sobs. He could feel his lips brush over Tom's cheek as he spoke. His skin was warm, slightly sticky with dirt and sweat. Usually it would be disgusting, but they were both beyond that. Harry just held him tightly and hoped that rescue or escape would come before he did something that couldn't be forgiven. 

After a moment, he felt Tom stir, pressing upwards. Harry tried to pull back, assuming he wanted some air. He felt a twinge of sheepishness- here he was, fresh off strangling his best friend and now hugging him too hard. Tom and Harry always did deal in extremes, after all. Tom didn't let him get very far, swinging an arm around Harry's shoulder and keeping him close as he pressed into him. Harry felt himself gasp, mouth dropping open in surprise as Tom's dry lips closed over his own. Just for a moment, so quickly that Harry wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. Tom's eyes flickered back open as he pulled away. He gave Harry one of his long-suffering smiles, the kind that made Harry feel like the ground under him was suddenly unsure of itself. 

"Let's get out of here soon, okay?" 

Harry nodded, maybe a little too quickly. 

\--- 

It felt so good to be back on Voyager. Without realizing it, this little ship had become more than a means to an end, and Harry realized that he thought of every person and every deck as a part of his home. He felt such overwhelming joy when the implant was deftly removed from his brain by the trusty Doctor that he could barely restrain himself from throwing his arms around the man's holographic shoulders and planting a kiss on his shiny bald head. His thoughts were his own again, untainted by the red haze he'd grown accustomed to in their short stay. Harry swung his legs gleefully as he prepared to slide off the cot, returning the Captain's restrained but fond smile with a grin of his own. However, as his gaze drifted past Janeway and the Doctor to his best friend, his smile fell. Tom was looking pretty chipper, happily chatting as the Doctor fussed over him with his usual annoyed resignation. Harry shuddered as the Doctor applied a dermal regenerator to Tom's neck, gently smoothing over the five small yellow bruises across his airway. Though the last reminders of what he'd done were gone, he still felt a heavy sickness settling in his stomach. As far as he knew, they didn't make a handy medical gadget to get rid of the knowledge that he'd almost done something he couldn't take back. 

"I'm clearing both of them for duty." The Doctor said in his usual monotone, already turning away from their beds and starting to sterilize his tools. 

"Let's get out of here, Harry. We've got a date." Tom winked, suddenly full of energy now that they'd been freed from the Clamp. Tom reached over and snaked his hand around Harry's elbow, tugging him away from the cot and coyly saluting back at the Doctor and Janeway. Harry trailed behind him, not sure what else to do besides follow where Tom led. As the doors to Sick Bay slid shut with a metallic hiss and the smell of hyposprays and sterilized instruments dissipated, Harry caught a flash of a smile on Janeway's face as she watched them leave. It was remarkably smug for their reserved Captain, like she knew something Harry didn't. He tried not to think about it as Tom dragged him through the hallways, deftly dodging the other crewmen who greeted them with delight as they passed. 

"So... a date, huh? How'd you get the Delaney sisters to come on such short notice?" Harry raised an eyebrow. Tom looked back at him for the first time since they'd left Sick Bay, fixing him with a strange, level look. Harry was reminded of a dark and cramped tent, the smell of blood on Tom's lips as he tried desperately to keep Harry from coming apart at the seams. 

"Who said anything about them? Come on, don't tell me you're not even a little hungry after all that." Tom's smile returned quickly, but not quickly enough. There was that contrived easiness again. Tom was doing what he always did- deflect. Maybe if things had happened differently beneath the glow of the chute Harry would have let it be, would have taken Tom's hand and spent their evening in the Mess Hall wasting their replicator rations and theatrically telling the story of Janeway's daring rescue to anyone who would listen. 

"Tom." Harry spoke instead, putting his hands on Tom's shoulders and ducking out of the main throughfare, tucking them into the space between a defunct replicator and some unused storage. 

"Yeah, Harry?" 

"How can you just pretend nothing happened? I... We..." Harry said softly, pulling his hands away from Tom's shoulders and crossing them over his own chest instead. 

"Of course something happened. Captain Janeway saved our sorry asses, just like you said she would." Tom said, ever the soldier, putting his hands on his hips and laughing even through the tremor in his voice. 

"I tried to kill you, Tom. Don't you remember?" Harry pressed, looking up at Tom intently, begging for a reaction. Tell me you hate me. Throw a punch. Just do something other than pretend everything is fine, that I didn't- 

"What I do remember is someone saying, 'This man is my friend. Nobody touches him.'" Tom surprised him by leaning down, until Harry was close enough to smell the minty shaving gel Tom had used to wipe away the evidence of their incarceration. His face looked better clean, Harry thought idly. Even just the few day's worth of stubble made him look like an animal. Harry supposed that was what he had been, what they both had been. But despite all that, despite the itch of the Clamp and the starvation and the fear, he'd protected Tom when it counted. 

That would have to be enough. 

"So what do you say we blow a week's worth of replicator rations?" Tom finished with a smile, not big and bright and overcompensating like the last time. This one was small and tentative and it made Harry feel like the floor was suddenly less solid than he'd originally thought. Was the gravity plating malfunctioning, or had Tom's smile always affected him this way? 

"So... what are we having?" Harry sighed deeply, and Tom brightened, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him out of the alcove, resuming their path to the Mess Hall. 

\--- 

"It's more than I expected." Tom regarded the spread of food in front of them with a quizzical look, as if he hadn't stood in front of the replicator and asked for it himself. 

"We must look crazy." Harry rested his chin on his fist and smiled. The rest of the room had elected to give them space, and people gave their table a wide berth as they carried their food, lost in their own troubles. 

"Hey, I figure we've got a free pass. We just survived the closest thing the Delta Quadrant has to Alcatraz." Tom said flippantly, picking up a spoon and dipping it into the glass bowl of ice cream, then bringing it to his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed, the picture of content. 

"Seriously? Dessert first?" Harry rolled his eyes, laughing to himself. 

"So? I'm a free man now, I can do whatever I please." Tom narrowed his eyes and accusingly pointed the spoon in Harry's direction. Harry put his hands up in surrender. 

"Still, isn't it a bit-" Before he could finish, Tom dipped the spoon back into the ice cream and swiftly pushed it between Harry's lips. Harry felt something cold dissolve on his tongue. The chocolate drizzle tasted better than he'd remembered it, though maybe that was just the days of starvation talking. 

"You were saying something?" Tom said smugly, pulling the spoon from Harry's mouth with a pop. Harry sighed deeply and shook his head. 

\--- 

The corridors of Voyager were quiet when they left the mess hall. A few people passed them, on their way to the night shift or heading to their bunks for some well-deserved rest. The crew were unsure how to treat Tom and Harry, he could see it in the nervous way they skated around them. Harry hoped it would pass soon. Not that he blamed them, they were only trying to be considerate. He just hated feeling like there was a target on his back. It would be better to blend into the flow of officers heading to their stations, just like he used to. 

Tom must have felt the same. When Kes bumped his shoulder turning a particularly narrow corner, she ducked her head and smiled awkwardly, quickly moving away. Her sensitivity to the pain of others must have made it difficult to be around Tom and Harry, whose minds were surely a quagmire of emotional turmoil. At least, Harry's was. Tom's head followed her as she retreated, mouth twisting ever so slightly. Harry wanted to reassure him that everything would go back to normal soon, that they could spend their time in the holodeck and among the crew in peace. However, he couldn't find the words, so he just reached up and squeezed Tom's hand lightly with his own before letting it drop again. Without realizing it, they'd reached Harry's quarters, and they huddled into the slight depression that marked the doorway. Tom's lips parted for a moment, like he wanted to say something, but they were interrupted. Just like always. Harry swallowed down the annoyance crawling up his throat. 

Tuvok stood in front of them, shoulders perfectly squared, expression neutral, as always. One perfectly trimmed eyebrow rose until it nearly met his meticulously shaped hairline. Harry remembered the promise he'd made under the flickering lights of the prison and made a mental note to join him for a meditation session sometime. With any luck, he might get something out of keeping his emotions in check. 

"I see you are recovering well, Lieutenant Paris. Have you had any difficulties adjusting to your return?" Tuvok, ever the adherent to protocol, addressed Tom by his rank. 

"None at all, Tuvok." Tom grinned, though there was an edge of strain to it. Why was he so eager to get out of the conversation? The obvious discomfort inherent in talking business with the strict Vulcan aside, of course. Tuvok was much more likeable off-duty, as much as he could be. "Just exhausted, mostly. Harry and I were on our way to get some rest, actually." He continued, and Harry hoped that Tuvok would take the hint. 

"Of course. And yourself, Ensign Kim?" Tuvok's dark eyes flicked onto Harry now, and Harry swallowed nervously. There was nothing scarier than Tuvok's searching gaze, like your head was a glass aquarium and he was neatly cataloguing all the thoughts swimming under the surface. Not even a prison full of violent aliens could hold a candle to him, it seemed. All Harry could muster was a stiff nod in response. 

"Perhaps this is premature, but the Doctor has cleared you for duty. Captain Janeway has requested that I determine whether we need to assign someone else to take on your duties for tomorrow. I am aware that you have recovered physically, but we would be remiss not to consider the emotional impact of your capture." Tuvok said politely and measuredly, each word rhythmic and carefully chosen. Tom and Harry glanced at each other, and Harry had to choke back a smile when Tom rolled his eyes, just slightly. 

"I'll be on deck tomorrow, Tuvok. I was missing your painfully exact navigational standards all that time I was away." He grinned and patted Tuvok's shoulder. Tuvok's eyes instantly snapped to Tom's hand. If Vulcans could frown... 

"There is no such thing as 'painfully' exact, Mr. Paris. My standards are simply not in line with your 'seat of the pants' philosophy." He lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around Tom's wrist, firmly removing it from his shoulder. "It seems that if you are well enough to attempt at humour, you are well enough to take your station." He finished dryly. Harry felt like he was going to explode if he kept bottling up his laughter. He could feel his shoulders shaking with the effort. 

"I'd rather do the same, sir. No need to take any additional measures." Harry piped up instead, trying not to choke. His voice rattled a bit, but if Tuvok noticed, he didn't comment. Instead, he nodded smoothly. 

"Sleep soundly, then. I will see you both bright and early for bridge duty." He turned on his heel without waiting for a response, clasping his hands and walking at a pace so measured you could set your watch by it. You know, if Starfleet officers still used watches. Harry waited until he turned the corner to bust out laughing, clinging to the railing on the side of the hallway for support. 

"My standards are simply not in line with your 'seat of the pants' philosophy, Mr. Paris." Tom echoed, flattening his voice and twisting his face into an exaggeration of Tuvok's blank expressions. 

"Stop." Harry wheezed, drawing the word out as he gripped the railing tightly. 

"As you know, Lieutenant, if you miscalulate the heading coordinates by even a matter of degree, the whole ship could be delayed on an expedition by a few seconds. You understand that this would surely be disastrous-" Tom kept his face level, still playing the part, but with a deeply un-Vulcan twinkle in his eye. Tom's impressions were funny, sure, but that wasn't why Harry was laughing so hard. It felt so good to be back here, among the crew, doing the normal things they had always done in the year they'd been stationed here. Despite their strange situation, Voyager was their home. He'd missed it deeply, and now that they were back, the emotional release was a little intense. 

"Seriously, I'm gonna cry-" He chuckled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"Alright, alright. You've already done enough of that. I don't need to put you through it again." Tom said lightly, throwing his Tuvok impression to the wind the way he shedded all of his personas, seamlessly and effortlessly. Harry felt his face fall. 

"I-I'm really sorry about that." He said slowly and quietly, remembering the way the blue crept into Tom's lips as the oxygen drained out of his face. 

"Shit. No, don't apologize. I shouldn't have brought it up-" Tom realized instantly that something had changed, tracking Harry's facial expressions more carefully than anyone else ever could. The humour in his voice was gone completely, replaced by concern. That made Harry's stomach tie itself into a knot. Even now, after what he'd done, he was making all of it about him. 

"It's fair game, I really was turning on the waterworks, wasn't I? God, to make you comfort me even right after I-" His breath came to him quick gasps, the feeling of remorse weighing him down until he was impossibly heavy. Tom furrowed his brow, stepping closer and placing a hand on either side of Harry's face before he had a chance to step back. 

"Hey. It wasn't you. Aggressive hormonal implant stuck in your brain, remember?" He said, matching Harry's quiet tone. Harry's eyes flicked up to Tom's hairline, at the tiny pink mark where the implant had been. It was almost gone, the Doctor's dermal regenerator stitching together the cells and wiping away the scar tissue even now. Harry nodded slowly. His throat was too dry to speak. 

Tom's voice dropped further, until he was almost whispering. There was nobody around them, all of the officers at their duties or tucked into their beds. Even if there had been, Tom was talking so quietly that his words were just for them. 

"And besides... I'll always comfort you. Somebody's got to, right? You've got this awful habit of beating yourself up." He smiled then, a real smile that made his eyes crinkle endearingly at the corners. They were closer now, enough that Harry could see the specks of silver in Tom's blue eyes and the tiny hairs at the edge of his jaw that he'd missed with the razor. 

"Always... that's a big promise, Tom." Harry chuckled softly, expecting Tom to break the heavy atmosphere like he always did- laugh it off, turn the conversation to something else. He didn't, though. Not this time. Tom slid a hand to the wall behind Harry's back, pressing closer until the fabric of his uniform brushed against Harry's shoulder. 

"Good thing my word is unbreakable, then. I guess you Starfleet types rubbed off on me more than I thought. You're sneaky like that." Tom was still smiling, but it wasn't a joke. This was one of the few times that he was being perfectly sincere. Surely he could feel Harry's heart beating a tattoo into the inside of his chest, but he didn't move away. In a selfish moment, Harry wished they could stay like this forever. 

"I'll hold you to that." Harry's voice caught in his throat. 

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Tom laughed quietly at that, and Harry felt it vibrate through his own chest from the spot where their bodies met. Tom's hand on the wall behind him began to move, brushing up Harry's spine and settling in the middle of his back. Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion, glancing up at Tom. He had an odd look about him, eyes singularly focused on Harry's face like he was the only real thing in the universe. 

Just like before, Tom's eyes fluttered shut and he tilted his head down just a bit. Harry definitely wasn't imagining it this time. Softly and quickly, he closed his lips over Harry's. They were softer this time, no longer split from dehydration and rough with dust. Tom pulled back just slightly, looking at him again like he was trying to gauge his reaction. What was his reaction, exactly? Harry felt like his head was bound to spin right off his shoulders at any moment. All he could do was sit in shock and catalogue all of the conflicting, terrifying feelings bouncing around in his skull. His best friend had just kissed him. On the mouth. With his mouth. Not as part of a holodeck bit to reassert their cover for Captain Proton's enemies, or a dare given by B'elanna at a particularly rowdy celebration, or a maybe-imagined moment as he lay on the dirty ground trying to catch his breath. 

Wait, maybe the holodeck thing hadn't been a bit. There really hadn't been a need to do it the second time, after Chaotica's minions had moved off. Or the third, for that matter. 

Now, hold on just a minute- 

As Harry stood stock still, trying desperately to sort through all of the confusing new information he was being bombarded with, he realized he hadn't kissed him back. Tom's face dropped just slightly, a momentary lull in forces as he readied his easy smile. His hand dropped from Harry's back, and he started to step away, a contrived laugh bubbling up through his chest. 

No. Absolutely not. He was not going to laugh this one off. All of Harry's confusion disappeared in an instant, and he knew exactly what he wanted. 

Harry hooked his thumb over the golden pips on Tom's collar and pulled him right back in. He pressed up on his heels and slid his hand to the back of Tom's neck until he could press their lips together again. Harry felt Tom sigh softly, all of the tension melting out of him as he leaned forward and gently pressed Harry against the door to his room. A cold little thrill ran up Harry's spine as Tom reached up and slid his fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss and pinning him tightly against the metal doorframe. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered whether kissing his best friend was really the wisest thing to do, but he quickly decided he didn't care. If they'd learned anything, it was that their lives could change at any moment. They could be charged on false accusations of terrorism and thrown into an alien prison. They could walk into Engineering tomorrow and be blown sky-high by an engine cascade. Harry could think over the possibilities until his head spun, but that wouldn't change anything. All he could do was be ready, no matter what came. 

Tom was breathing heavily when he pulled back, hair falling into his face, pale skin turning bright red with a flush that crawled all the way down his neck and disappeared under his collar. It was Harry's turn to laugh softly, as he brushed the side of his thumb over Tom's cheek. He looked like a flustered lobster. 

"You know, you really had me going there for a minute. Thought I was in deep trouble." Tom tilted his head to the side and pressed his cheek into Harry's palm. His warm breath brushed over Harry's wrist. 

"Serves you right. What happened to asking before you try to stick your tongue down someone's throat? Chivalry really is dead." Harry snapped back, but he wasn't annoyed, not really. The most he could manage with Tom was a fond exasperation. 

"As I recall, you didn't seem to mind." Tom raised an eyebrow, and Harry felt the tips of his ears get warm. Before he could come up with a sufficiently witty retort, Tom reached for the wall behind them. There was a quiet beep and a soft whoosh as the door behind Harry began to slide open. He lost his balance, stumbling backwards into the darkness of his room. Tom remained in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. It was a real one, or as close as Tom could manage. 

"See you on the bridge, Ensign." He winked, and pressed the button again. The seal hissed, framing Tom's face between the metal doors for a brief moment before they clicked shut. 

"Goodnight, Tom." Harry said quietly to the empty room. 

The gravity plating definitely wasn't malfunctioning this time. Harry had butterflies in his stomach for an entirely different reason.


End file.
